Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
But that wasn’t what he said.
“It can come back,” he said.
I frowned at him in question, my hand still in his hair.
He turned in the chair, catching my wrist in his grip. It was tight. Too tight. It wasn’t a pleasant pressure and would surely leave a bruise. I ground my molars and didn’t make a sound because part of me liked it. Knowing that he wasn’t in control around me, that I made him slip.
“The cancer,” he said, bringing my wrist to his lips, instantly gentle after the brutality of his prior touch. “It can come back.”
He didn’t exactly structure it like a question, but it seemed like it was since he wasn’t a doctor with extensive knowledge of my medical history.
The panic in the air was palpable.
“It could,” I said carefully. “There is a small chance it could. Slightly higher than anyone else without it, but the risk isn’t high.”
I downplayed it like it hadn’t been an axe hanging over my head my entire life. Every physical twinge, every bout of the flu, every test I had, I braced for the bad news. Because I knew that it could happen to me. I wasn’t insulated by ignorance, thinking things like cancer happened only to other people.
I was aware that fate was a bitch who’d gifted me with horrible parents, addiction and a genome that tried to kill me. But I also tried not to dwell on those things. Which I was only successful in doing after I stopped trying to drink those worries away. Trying to drown them. I quickly learned that worries could swim, even in bottles of Tito’s.
“You need a checkup,” Knox growled, hoisting my naked body up against him. With his head resting against my abdomen, his hands possessively slid up the backs of my thighs, kneading my backside.
“We need to get you checked out now.”
I wanted to laugh at the urgency, the anxiety in his tone, as if cancer were raging in my body right then, and it was a race against time.
“We don’t.” I ran my hands through his hair once more.
“We fucking do,” he gritted out, his head snapping up.
“I’ve had checkups,” I assured him. “Yearly. Since I went into remission. I keep track.”
Knox was watching me very carefully, as if cancer might’ve just ravaged my entire body at that moment. “Yearly isn’t enough. We’ll get some more. With the best doctor in the country.”
I wanted to smile. Don’t get me wrong, while talking about my cancer and about the possibility of it coming back, there were many times when I did not want to smile. Often, I only did so to make my sister feel less worried or because if I didn’t smile and laugh, I would’ve broken down in tears.
But with Knox, my need to smile was not a mask, nor was it a replacement for sorrow. My lips twitched out of a general feeling of warmth.
If you’d asked me if Knox could give me any kind of warmth when I’d first met him, my answer would’ve been that he could only generate heat inside me if he literally set me on fire. Which wasn’t out of the question, after he murdered me, to get rid of the body.
He ended up lighting a different kind of fire in me. My body. Last night. And sure, that was life-altering and mind-blowing. But this gentle warmth, like a mug of tea that was the perfect, cozy temperature, simmering inside of me… That was a lot more profound.
“Sure,” I told him. “Once we get out of this situation.” I waved my hand at the cabin, a sudden feeling of dread overtaking me at the thought of ever leaving it. I pushed that apprehension down, clearing my throat. “We can go see a doctor to get me checked. It doesn’t need to be the ‘best’ doctor in the country, though. Any MD can read the results of the test.”
Knox’s gaze hadn’t wavered, but I’d seen a slight twitch in his cheek when I mentioned getting away from the cabin.
I wondered if he was reassessing his entire plan. He must’ve been. The previous plan was to keep me here under threat of death for my sister then deliver me to his boss to be married once I was sufficiently broken and terrified.
I waited for him to speak about the elephant in the room, for him to make pragmatic, realistic plans. I ached for that. For him to take care of this. Give me hope that we had a future.
He didn’t do that.
“I’m a monster,” he said plainly. “I wasn’t born this way, though I know some are. Born without feelings, with a penchant for cruelty. People who dissect animals for fun when they’re kids then move on to people when they have the ability to.” His eyes bore into mine. “I was made into this. By my childhood and the way I chose to deal with it. I moved away from the sunlight where my scars were visible, hiding in the darkness where I could make more. I’ve killed people, Piper. Plenty of them. Fathers, mothers, daughters, sons.”